Red Rose

wither

You gave me a red rose

 Every time to proclaim love.

I blushed red and gushed,

Remembering the day

We stepped into an arranged marriage.

Honest as always,

You declared your gratitude

To the flower seller –

His only stock of red roses.

I chose the vermilion, instead.

Copyright © 2017, Deeya Nayar-Nambiar

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